


if the chips fall right (can I stay all night?)

by Talls



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M, Neil in a dress, casino setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 19:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19751923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talls/pseuds/Talls
Summary: Andrew has a soft spot for the casino jobs. He gets to walk into a casino with a lot of money and do what comes naturally.  These are the rare rare occasions that make the whole ‘pledged life in service’ thing worth itTonight, his job also has the added benefit of including Neil Josten, secretkeeper of the intelligence community, and Andrew's personal problem.--Andreil week days 2-4!





	if the chips fall right (can I stay all night?)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Andreil Week 2019 - the prompts I used were secrets (day 2), language (day 3), and Japan day 4). Title comes from Foreplay - Jalen Santoy. This fic is self-indulgent as hell.

Andrew has a soft spot for the casino jobs. The life of a secret agent is actually rarely glamorous, 90% wading through stacks of intelligence reports, staring at hours of surveillance footage, and dealing with jet lag and belligerent locals. Then there’s the 5% of truly gratuitous violence, where Andrew has to sew his body together with dental floss and whatever spirit he can find in the closest safe-house, where he stares at the blood on the hands and wonders if any of this was worth it, if any of it could have been prevented. And then, there’s the casino jobs.

Why does Andrew like casino jobs? Easy. Andrew gets to walk into a casino with a fitted gold tuxedo, a perfectly balanced Walther PPK, and a truly obscene amount of money, and his job is to do what comes naturally. These are the rare rare occasions that make the whole ‘pledged life in service’ thing worth it. 

He’s in Monaco tonight, and he’ll be in Tokyo in two days. He’s been craving the good kind of mochi, and it’s been a long week. He deserves it. He collects his chips and makes his way to the nearest blackjack table, undoing his jacket button as he sits. He’s not anywhere close to the center, avoiding the attention of the main players on the floor. He couldn’t compete with the showstopper tonight. 

“I’m in,” Andrew says, flipping two red chips and a blue into play. A quick-fingered blond with Roland scrawled in black cursive on his name tag deals Andrew in. Andrew raises his fingers, flagging a waiter down. 

“Sir,” the man asks, waiting for Andrew’s order. 

“I’ll have a medium dry martini, lemon peel, shaken not stirred,” Andrew says, lounging back in his chair. The other members of the game are going before him, and all of them seem willing to push their luck. Andrew understands the impulse, but he’s waiting for something very specific before he decides to bet. “And I’d like to order a drink for the redhead in the blue dress by the roulette tables,” Andrew continues. “The one who’s gotten more drinks than anyone else tonight,” Andrew further clarifies. 

The waiter asks for the drink order with an almost perfect picture of professionalism, except for the slight gleam of pity in his eyes. Andrew supposes no other drink offers have been particularly successful. “And who will I say it’s from?” 

“Say it’s from Doe. Andrew Doe.” 

The waiter leaves and Andrew focuses back on his game. He plays conservatively, stays more than he hits. He isn’t ready to make any big moves yet. 

Seven hands later and Andrew registers a warm presence at his back. Andrew bites back a smirk, and places half of his chips in the betting area. 

“A Shirley Temple, Andrew? Really?” Neil says in smooth German, voice low in Andrew’s ear. “What are we, in grade school?” Andrew braces himself internally for the sight he’s about to endure, and upon turning, reflects that nothing could have prepared him for the sight. 

Neil is in a sapphire evening dress with a high neck and a non-existent back, a solid six inches taller than Andrew in his heels, long fingers adorned in heavy rings that, if employed correctly, could shatter a man’s cheekbone in one swing. Andrew flicks his gaze downwards, and catches a glimpse of smooth thigh and well-defined calf through the almost obscenely long slit in the dress. He meets Neil’s eye again and smiles with his teeth. 

“I didn’t want you especially intoxicated tonight,” Andrew says, turning back to the blackjack game just in time for Roland to deal his cards. Nine of spades and seven of hearts. 

“Bad luck,” Neil tuts. “They say to never hit on sixteen.” Neil pushes one of his ringed hands into the back of Andrew’s hair, and Andrew pushes into the feeling of cool metal and gentle scratch of filed fingernails. 

“Double down,” Andrew says, pushing the rest of his chips into the betting area. The dealer raises an eyebrow at the decision, but deals Andrew the supplemental card all the same. 

Five of diamonds. Twenty-one. The table is silent. 

“This has been fun,” Andrew remarks lightly in French, after Roland deals for himself and then busts, “but I really should be going. If you could get all of this together for me, that would be just lovely.” 

“Leaving so soon?” Neil asks, a smile coloring his words. “But things were just starting to get fun.” 

“I think I could be persuaded to stay,” Andrew says, as Roland hands him a small briefcase full of chips. “What did you have in mind?” 

“We can figure that out along the way,” Neil says, swishing his dress out of the way of his legs and making room for Andrew to stand. Andrew smirks when he notices that Neil made just enough room for Andrew to stand, but only if Neil and Andrew are pressed together. Andrew drains his martini, then places one hand on Neil’s back, just above where his dress begins again. 

“Well then,” Andrew says, gently ushering Neil from the table and to the casino exit, “lead the way.” On the way out, Andrew makes eye contact with the waiter from earlier, who has an approving look on his face. Andrew winks at him, and hopes he picks up the martini, which has two hundreds under the base on the blackjack table. He likes to reward exemplary service. 

By the time they make it into the elevator up to Neil’s hotel room, they’re nearing public indecency. Andrew’s teeth are pressed against Neil’s neck and one of Neil’s long legs is hitched up over Andrew’s hip as they ascend through the levels, the night skyline a blur of water and electricity, the stars bright as the pepper the sky. 

They reach Neil’s floor, and Neil grabs the crook of Andrew’s elbow and sways, stumbling, on Andrew’s arm as he leads them to his suite, past the other hotel guests and discreet custodial staff. Andrew presses up against Neil’s back as Neil fumbles with his key card, mouths at the nape of his neck. People around them avert their eyes neatly, paying no mind to the drunk couple who got lucky in every way tonight. 

They make it inside the room and disengage from each other neatly, though Andrew does take a moment to catch his breath. Neil stops stumbling, walks purposefully to the couch in the middle of the suite, and sits to undo the straps on his heels. “Not that I didn’t enjoy myself thoroughly, but I don’t think you came here for a fumbled hookup in an elevator.” 

“Well. Not _just_ for a fumbled hookup in an elevator,” Andrew concedes, shrugging off his jacket and rolling up his cuffs. 

“What are you looking for here?” Neil asks, leaning back against the couch. “Or who, I should say.” 

“Straight to the point,” Andrew says. “No foreplay?” 

“I think we’ve had enough foreplay to get to the good stuff, yes love,” Neil says, slipping into his native British accent. Andrew sits next to Neil on the couch. 

“Jean Moreau,” Andrew says. Neil narrows his eyes.

“Darling, just because I like you doesn’t mean I’m just going to give him to you for nothing,” Neil chides when Andrew doesn’t say anything further. 

“You didn’t let me finish,” Andrew says, and Neil glares at him. Andrew smirks. Neil is too easy to rile up. “Jean Moreau has remanded himself to our friend 002’s care-” 

“Kevin? Why Kevin?” Neil interjects. 

“He’s a good agent,” Andrew says. 

“He’s an annoying person. Also, that’s not the point. If Jean told Kevin where he is, you have to know where Jean is too. My question goes unanswered. Why are you here?” 

“Jean gave himself up because Riko almost killed him,” Andrew adds, and Neil stills, his face a tight rictus of rage. Neil and Jean used to be close, ran in the same circles for a few years before Jean got in bed with the Moriyama family, specifically the second son, Riko. “It was an open secret that Riko was abusive, and you deal in secrets,” Andrew says. Neil bites his lip. 

“I tried to get him out more times than you could believe. Riko must have done something horrific for him to ask for Kevin’s protection,” Neil says. Kevin met Jean on an op investigating the second Moriyama branch a few years back. They had a tragic affair, short-lived and ill-advised before Kevin got burned with the Moriyamas and Jean refused to leave with him. Kevin was broken-hearted, and Jean was left up shit’s creek without a paddle or a boat. 

“He has it now, and the protection of the agency as well,” Andrew adds. Neil narrows his eyes. 

“If he has agency protection, he’s made himself of use,” Neil says, eyes shrewd. Neil never misses anything, which makes him more invaluable than almost anyone else in the intelligence community. 

“We’re going for Riko,” Andrew says, unwilling to prevaricate any longer. “And I want you with us.” Neil freezes, stares at Andrew like he’s insane. 

“No,” Neil says, finally. “No, I can’t.” 

Andrew holds his gaze for a second, before nodding. “Okay,” he says, before standing up. 

“Okay?” Neil says, looking up at Andrew, an expression of mild panic on his face. “What do you mean okay?” 

“I mean, okay. You don’t want to help us,” Andrew says. It’s bullshit, of course. Neil wants to help them more than anything else in the world, wants to bury Riko Moriyama, wants to be a good guy and save the world. He’s just scared, but then again, why wouldn’t he be? It’s a scary world. Neil knows that better than most. 

“So you’re just leaving?” Neil says, standing up, as if to stop Andrew somehow. He’s barefoot, looks more boyish than the dangerous homme fatale he was playing before. With his heels off, he’s closer to Andrew in height. Andrew would like very much to kiss him. 

“Did you want me to stay?” Andrew asks. 

“Don’t be obtuse, it doesn’t suit you,” Neil bites. Andrew just stares. “You can’t just be okay with the fact that I won’t help.” 

“Yes I can,” Andrew says. “Fear isn’t weakness in this game, it’s survival.” 

“I don’t fear Riko Moriyama,” Neil snarls. 

“No, you fear his older brother, Ichirou,” Andrew says. Neil rears back, blanching. 

“How do you even know that name?” Neil whispers. 

“I’ve been doing the legwork. You made a deal with Ichirou Moriyama for something you would consider freedom, and I would consider a life sentence in a gilded prison. Then your father suddenly stopped breathing, along with every other high-ranking member of his organization. Now you exist at the beck and call of the heir to the Moriyama throne, and you’ve had to sit and watch his bully younger brother brutalize people without remorse or punishment,” Andrew says dispassionately. Neil is shaking. 

There is silence in the room for a long moment. “Why?” Neil asks. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I know how difficult it is to access that information. Nobody in the world should know that that deal ever happened. You must have done a lot of legwork, put in a lot of time, cashed in a lot of favors. Kevin has a vendetta, and your agency has reasons to topple the Moriyamas, but you don’t have a horse in this race. Why are you so invested in this?” 

“Don’t be obtuse, it doesn’t suit you,” Andrew mimics. 

“Andrew, answer me,” Neil says, getting into Andrew’s space. “What exactly do the Moriyamas have on you that you’re pushing like this?” Andrew turns and walks to the door, done with this conversation for the time being. Neil wasn’t ready. “Don’t walk away from me like this,” Neil warns. Andrew moves to grab his jacket, but Neil stops him, steps in his path. Finally, Andrew growls, pushes Neil into the wall and follows him into it, putting his hands high on Neil’s long neck, pressing just enough to feel. 

Improbably, Neil relaxes into Andrew’s grip. Andrew lets his hands slip down from Neil’s neck to his hips. Andrew’s hands are shaking and Neil is breathing hard. Neil leans forwards to place his forehead against Andrew’s. 

“They have you on a leash. What other reason do I need?” Andrew murmurs against Neil’s lips, and Andrew doesn’t know which of them pushes forwards first, but then they’re kissing, and Neil’s hands are wrecking Andrew’s styled hair, and Andrew’s fingers are pressing hard enough into Neil’s hips to bruise. 

After that it’s more of a blur than anything else. At some point, Andrew grunts out a, “Get this off before I tear it off you,” and at another, Andrew drops Neil onto his bed and bears down on him, and at another he falls asleep with Neil passed out on his chest. 

In the morning, before the sun has made its way out of the sea, Andrew buttons his shirt, planning to stop back at his own hotel room before making his way out of Monaco. Neil shifts in bed and wakes up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Leaving already?” he asks, voice scratchy with sleep and use. 

“I’ve got places to be,” Andrew says, before kneeling back on the bed and pulling Neil into a good morning kiss. 

“Where are you going?” Neil asks, and Andrew stills, knows that this sign of interest means that Neil is reconsidering his position on this. 

“I’m meeting with a friend’s contact in Paris, one Allison Reynolds, if you’re familiar. After that, I’m in Tokyo to regroup with Kevin and Jean.” Andrew says. 

“There’s Reynolds money involved with this?” Neil asks, incredulously. 

“Ever since 006 helped her knock over the previous Reynolds dynasty, she’s been a generous patron of some of our riskier endeavors,” Andrew says. Translated, Renee was such a good lay that Allison might be willing to play support on the Moriyama op. 

“She likes me, you know?” Neil says. 

“I do know that,” Andrew says, “which is why I was hoping to have your help when I went to talk to her.” 

“I could go with you for that,” Neil says. Andrew bites back a victorious smirk. Neil is on board. Andrew is going to win this. “I’m not saying I’m going to play a role in any of this, but I’ll vouch for you.” 

“I’m okay with that,” Andrew says, and Neil narrows his eyes, tries to figure out if Andrew manipulated him into making the decision. Andrew pulls his jacket on, adjusting it to make sure it sits straight. 

“The helicopter leaves to Nice in two hours,” Andrew says. “I’ll meet you downstairs in an hour thirty. From there we have a flight from Nice to Paris. I have a hotel room already, unless you wanted to get your own.” Neil nods seriously, and Andrew can already see the schemes and plans whirling in his head as he fits together plans for his own freedom. Andrew leans forwards for another prolonged kiss, before leaving. 

Exactly ninety minutes later, Andrew is next to a boy in a tacky t-shirt and cargo pants, utterly indistinguishable from any of the wide-eyed tourists that roam the streets, a far cry from the fabulously dressed bad idea Andrew had gone to bed with. Neil falls into stride with Andrew easily as they make their way to the helipad, and Andrew is caught up in a glimpse of the future. Neil will keep following Andrew until they’ve dismantled the Moriyamas together, and Neil will shed identities like a snake sheds skin, and Andrew will take him to bed every night, and watch his back, and marvel at his fire, and when it’s all said and done, they’ll do it over and over again until the world is remade in their image or until this world kills them, whichever comes first. 

Yeah, Andrew thinks, as he stoically pretends he’s not terrified of the helicopter flight and Neil pretends he’s not holding Andrew’s hand, casino jobs are about as good as it gets.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! as always, please leave a comment or kudos if you liked it, your feedback propels me!


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